Skittery's Fear
by KatyRose4
Summary: Skittery has always been scared of blood, but when Tumbler gets into trouble, he has to work past his fear to help.
1. Part 1

**Author's Note: Written for the Newsies Pape Selling Competition- Season Two, Circulation One.**

 **Team: Newsies of New York.**

 **Assignment Two: Assignment Two: Write about a newsie who is trapped by an incident in their lives and can't get away from it. Any newsie can be used here, and any situation you feel is needed can be used to be their "chains".**

 **Word Count: 1409**

 **Disclaimer** **: I don't own Newsies**

The boy had just come home from school and doing errands. The inside was poorly lit, and a little difficult to see. Nothing could be heard except the small pitter-patter of his footsteps. He took an apple from the dining table and turned the corner. Usually, his father could be seen in the big chair taking a nap or reading a newspaper. But he wasn't there that night.

The boy moved on to the bedroom, wondering if he was there instead. It was tiny and only had enough space for a bed and a dresser, and almost no light would shine through. Very few people would want to spend too long in there. But tragedy had recently struck the family- the boy's mother had passed away. The room had turned from cramped to cozy, and her husband and child spent a lot more time cooped up in there. It was comforting to be in the peace and quiet.

The boy opened the door, causing an awkward creaking sound. He starting pushing it more slowly, not wanting the sound to disturb his father (should he be there.) Through the damp shadows, he could see something on the floor. Walking closer, it appeared to be a figure, facedown on the floor. The boy thought that his father must've just rolled off of the bed. He turned him over. He was alarmed to see a deep, red, gash in his father's chest. His shirt was stained with red, a knife was curled in his hands and his lifeless eyes stared back at his son.

The boy could barely understand what had happened. He couldn't believe that his father was dead, and the idea hadn't fully set in. Every part of his brain was trying to say it wasn't true, even though he knew that was a lie. His bones stiffened and he felt really weird. He couldn't stop staring at the injury, and he got panicked and scared.

A thin layer of blood trickled in a line on the floor and it nearly made him stick to his stomach, knowing where it came from. His skin started to crawl and his shoulders tensed up. It looked so gross and strange, and there was so much of it. He had seen blood before, but not like that, and he couldn't take his eyes off of it. He was just frozen, staring at it. It was the only thing he could focus on. He wanted to get away, but somehow, he just couldn't.

Finally, the neighbors found him. The police took him away. He said a final goodbye to his home and father. And yet, the only thing he could think about for two days, was blood.


	2. Part 2

I was sitting at a table with Racetrack, Blink, and Mush, at Tibby's when Mush got a small cut on his finger. Blood started to ooze out, making a small bubble. He wiped it with a napkin.

My throat got a little tight, I had trouble breathing, and my hands got clammy. I put on my best poker face and took a sip of water, but Race could see right through me. He put the bloodied napkin to my face when I was done drinking. I got uncomfortable and moved a little back. "Hey look, Skittery's totally freaked out!" He and Blink laughed. (At least Mush didn't.)

"I'm not," I tried to protest. But I realized my face was bright red. Then Race presented Mush's cut finger next. Every muscle just seized and I could feel my heartbeat. It was going just a little too fast, and I couldn't move.

I told them to drop it, and they did, but the whole thing was humiliating. I was used to it, it was a pretty common occurrence, but I was still sick of that annoying fear. It controlled so much of my life, it even gave me my nickname, and made me feel helpless in so many occasions.

Whenever there was an accident at the Lodging House, I couldn't do anything. I was a wreck every time I was bleeding (even just a little,) and everyone else had to calm me down. And being terrified every time there's even a little bit of blood isn't fun either. It was my heaviest burden, and I wanted it to loosen at least a little bit of its grip. In that moment, like so many times before, I wished not to be scared of blood anymore. I huffed and ate the rest of my dinner quietly.

As I was walking out, I caught Tumbler at the door. I asked him, "You want to have lunch tomorrow?" I decided that I had better people to hang out with than people who find my plight hilarious.

He said yes, and we agreed to meet at the Lodging House at noon.

When the time came the next afternoon, I waited in the front, right near Kloppman's desk. He wasn't there, so I was alone. I waited around for a few minutes. I didn't think I was too early or late, but I still didn't see Tumbler. He wasn't anywhere on the first floor, so I checked the bunks and the bathroom. No sign of him there either.

When I went back down the stairs, I noticed that the door to the basement was left open. It almost never was. I figured that Kloppman was down there, and that I could ask if he had seen Tumbler.

The downstairs area was dark, and I couldn't see any movement. I went through the small entrance, and to my right, could see a fallen shelf. I went towards it. I noticed another thing on the floor nearby, but I couldn't tell what it was. When I got closer, I realized that it was the shape of a small person.

I rushed over and turned him up. It was Tumbler, and the front of his head was bleeding. There was a small pool of red on the floor.

On any other day, I would've screamed, or have a breakdown, or run away. Small cuts were one thing, serious injuries were on a different level entirely. But it was _Tumbler_ in trouble, and he was in real danger. My brain yelled at me not to touch anything, and my body shuddered at the thought of getting blood on my hands, but there really wasn't a choice. It was not the right time to freak out.

I picked him up and carried him out. I continued to the next floor, being as careful as possible, and set him down on the closest bed. I grabbed towels from the bathroom and put them over the damage. I lightly hit him on the cheek to wake him up. "Tumbler, come on Tumbler," I called.

Finally, his eyes started to open. "Skittery?" He closed them again, and I tapped him some more. If he didn't stay awake, then it would all be over, though I tried not to think about that. (Or any other gruesome possibility.)

"Don't fall asleep," I stated firmly. He woke up, but he seemed foggy, tired, in pain, and scared. I was too, but I was more concerned. I mumbled reassuring words to help, but in all honestly, I knew that it didn't do much.

"Boys?" I heard Kloppman boom. He had heard us.

"Up here!" I yelled, hoping he would follow the sound. He did, and when he noticed Tumbler, he rushed into the room.

"What happened?"

"I was looking for something and a shelf fell on my head," Tumbler replied weakly.

I looked at Kloppman, silently pleading for help. I didn't know what to do. Kloppman said, "I'll take care of this," and I handed Tumbler over to him. "Thank you, Skittery. Good job today."

I nodded and moved over to the next bed. Then I realized something. I had been so distracted making sure that Tumbler was okay, and it had all happened so fast, that I hadn't even paid much attention to the blood. It was all over me, but I wasn't freaking out as much as I would've before. I was still scared, but it was the first step. I was making progress. I was finally free.


End file.
